The Replacement: My Brother, My Sister
by brekkia
Summary: Willow takes up Slaying after The Gift.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Replacement 1/?  
Author: Brekkia  
Contact:  
Date: 3/13/02  
Spoilers: Through The Gift then goes AU  
Summary: Willow takes up Slaying after The Gift.  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: None  
Category: General  
Distribution: I guess if you want it that badly... Just send 19.95 to... I kid. Ask and ye shall receive.  
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind, which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Replacement

Two figures stood in front of the Summers' residence. They could have been shadows these two, dressed so deeply in black as they were. Willow Rosenberg was one of those figures.

The vampire known as Angel, was the other.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he said as he handed her the scroll.

Of all the things he might have said to her he couldn't think of anything more supportive?

Willow shrugged in response and took the parchment from him and unrolled it.

"Willow--"

"You know it really doesn't matter what you say, I'm going to do this," Willow said studying the rough, yellowed paper in her hands. "Unless you want to pull up shop in LA and move back to Sunnydale?"

She was only half-serious.

"What about the robot? You said it was taking care of the slaying."

"It's no Buffy."

"Neither are you."

Willow looked up at Angel. "No, I'm not. I'm going to be better."

Angel eyes darkened.

"Thank Wesley for this," Willow went on to say, raising the parchment. "With Giles gone, it's hard getting information like this lately."

Angel nodded.

Willow smiled. "And thank you for bringing it," she said.

"You're welcome, I enjoy lending a hand whenever possible, especially if it means it might get a friend killed."

"Oh stop it, Angel! I'm not going to get killed."

"Right. And since you bring up Giles, what does he think about you doing this?"

"Look, Angel, with Buffy--gone--Sunnydale is more vulnerable than ever. Someone has to protect this town."

"Uh-huh. I notice you didn't answer the question."

"Angel--"

"And why you—just you? Can't Spike--I can't believe I'm saying this--do it?"

Willow shook her head. "Spike has been helping out, but in the end he's still a vampire, and a chipped one at that. And you know as well as I do despite having super powers, vampires have a lot of weaknesses without adding one more."

"And you as a human, _well_, you don't have any weaknesses, _do you_?" Angel asked, his face shifting.

Willow backed away from him.

"You can really take care of yourself out there in the dark, alone, against creatures a hundred times more dangerous than I am," Angel said silkily, looming over Willow.

"You'd be amazed to learn, Angel, that I'm one of those things a hundred times more dangerous than you."

Angel stopped dead in his tracks when Willow's eyes went from bright green to solid black. Angel felt an explosive power from her and he stumbled backwards.

"Let's get this straight, Angel. You and Spike, you're firecrackers," Willow raised her hand and Angel was thrown back and collided with the Oak tree, "I'm a neutron bomb."

Willow's eyes returned to their natural color and she tilted her face up to the moonlit sky and took a deep breath, then looked down at Angel slumped against the tree.

"I know you care about my safety, but what I need right now are people who're going to back me up, not drag me down with doubts. I already have too many of those."

Willow re-rolled the parchment then placed it in the inside pocket of her leather coat. Angel rose off the ground pressing his hand against his chest, staring at Willow with unabashed disbelief. Willow pulled the lapels of her coat together against the cold.

"There's no one else," she said. "I'm sorry."

Angel watched her turn away from him and walked back into the house.

* * *

The hardest thing was cutting back on her classes at UC Sunnydale. Buffy didn't have to, of course. She could get by on five hours of sleep and wake up feeling fresh as a daisy. Willow couldn't. Patrolling until two, three o'clock in the morning, plus using magic was draining even after a full eight hours rest. So she dropped a few classes and threw herself completely into the slaying. It was the way Willow dealt with everything she applied herself to. Give a hundred and fifty percent and then fifty more. She had been taught by experience and by the urging of the adults in her life that if you worked hard and committed to achieving your goals, the more likely you were of doing so. And how exactly does someone feel as fresh as a daisy, anyway?

Willow shifted her weight onto her right leg when her left started to tingle. Then she wrapped her black cape more tightly around her body. The heavy shawl weighed on her in more ways than one, but at least it kept her warm up here on the rooftops. Not that the clothes she wore underneath the cloak didn't provide some warmth, but after all these weeks she was still gun shy about the outfit.

She was perched on the roof of a discount clothes outlet. She was waiting for her quarry to emerge, a demon that'd hit Sunnydale a few days ago. The outlet was a front for a black market operation that dealt in selling human organs for demon consumption. Or at least that's what Willie told her the night before.

The streets were deserted, and Willow was glad. If her information was accurate, the demon inside was one of the more lethal demons to pass through Sunnydale since the Omari breached this dimension. Which meant Willow was going to need the room.

"Well, hello, big boy," Willow whispered when the large demon lurched out of the store's front door carrying a dripping bag over his right shoulder.

Score one for Xander and Dawn. They called it. The demon was definitely a Holderack.

The Holderack below her was typical of its breed: Eight feet tall from head to clawed toe. Green skinned with black spots mottling its muscular chest and shoulders. Tucked in tightly over its broad back, were its wings. They weren't there just for show. Holderacks could fly quite well, and judging from this one's height and weight, its wing span was probably over fifteen feet.

The Holderack was keeping a low profile, which is why it was buying its food instead of killing to feed, like it had when it came to town two days ago. Leaving a trail of six gutted bodies in its wake. Then it went to ground.

Willow stood up and stepped off the roof. She floated down to the sidewalk her cape trailing her fall. Her boots made no sound when she landed and neither did her cloak.

Willow turned to face the Holderack's back and pointed her right middle finger and index finger at the bag the demon held. "Res inflammo."

The Holderack howled in pain when the bag exploded into flames against its back.

The bag fell to the sidewalk, its glowing embers scattering in the wind. The Holerack turned and roared again when it saw Willow standing behind it, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Virago!" It rumbled.

Willow blinked. At least now she knew why the Holderack had gone to ground after coming to Sunnydale. In a way it was flattering…

The demon charged her. Unshaken, Willow studied the demon's face. Bald, purples eyes, no nose, and beak-like mouth. Or maybe its nose was a part of its mouth.

Willow stood her ground, whispering a spell under her breath. The Holderack lifted its clawed hands over its head when it came within a few feet of Willow, then brought them down at her skull. Intent on slashing off her face.

The Holderack passed right through Willow, losing its balance. Willow took advantage of the demon's tilted equilibrium and delivered a spinning back kick into the demon's lower back knocking it to the ground. The Holderack fell face forward but caught itself with his arms and quickly pushed its bulky body up into the air.

Willow cautiously jumped backwards away from the Holderack as it landed on its feet in a crouch, its wings stretching out from its back.

"Virago," the demon growled again, its wings flapping with a hummingbird rhythm then it flew at Willow with such speed it astounded her.

Willow jumped back again boosting the power in her leap with a levitation spell. The bound took her thirty feet and set her down in the middle of the deserted street. The Holderack caught up with her quickly and Willow was on the move again.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Replacement 2/?  
Author: Brekkia  
Contact:  
Date: 3/13/02  
Spoilers: Through The Gift then goes AU  
Summary: Willow takes up Slaying after The Gift.  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: None  
Category: General  
Distribution: I guess if you want it that badly... Just send 19.95 to... I kid. Ask and ye shall receive.  
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind, which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Replacement

"Well, well, look at 'er? Big bad witchy woman's got her mojo workin'."

Spike watched the scene from another rooftop, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. He'd been watching for a while now. Following her out every night after the Bit went off to bed.

He didn't really care what happened to her. But She would have wanted him to try and help her lackeys the same as Dawn. Not that he'd been needed much.

The punk was doing the Watcher routine with Dawn, and Red was dishing out major ass whippings to the vamp population all by her lonesome.

Spike was lucky if he got any leftovers when she was done.

Red launched herself at the face of a tall duplex, rebounding off its brick wall. The big demon was hot on her trail. Spike heard her cape snap when she twisted in mid-air her back to the direction where she was heading, which to Spike seemed to be another rooftop.

Red was facing the demon and Spike saw her mouth moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying, good chance it was another spell, though. Red landed on the top of the roof, running backwards with swiftness and balance that defied the limits of human agility. The demon had reached her by now, swiping its claws at her, always missing but coming within inches of connecting.

Spike unconsciously leaned forward; narrowing his eyes to peer into the darkness blanketing the rooftop Willow and the demon tarried on. He wondered how Red was going to get out of this. Eventually she ran out of roof and knew it somehow, and jumped again before running off the edge. Straight up, like black lightning going the wrong way.

Spike's night vision allowed him to follow Red and the demon's upward flight. Both having been swallowed by the night above where the city lights did not reach. They seemed to go up forever, until Spike could see nothing but black dots.

Then Willow stopped—and dropped. The demon was flying so fast in its pursuit of her that it couldn't stop before Willow brought her booted feet down into its face. Then they were falling back to Earth.

The demon was clutching its head as it plunged in the belly flop position. The long, thin wings attached to its back trailed uselessly behind the rest of its body. Willow came down on the demon's back between its wings, and then they began to fall even faster to the ground. Willow's feet seemed glued to the demon's body even before terminal velocity kicked in. There was no stopping them now, Spike thought.

The demon was kicking its legs and waving its arms madly trying to get from under Willow when it saw the ground coming up, to no avail. Spike lost sight of them when they came down fast behind the building Willow jumped into the sky from. But he definitely heard when they landed.

Spike waited… and waited for Red to show herself. He doubted she would perform a maneuver like that if it had killed her. She was bloody Gung Ho, all Semper Fi, when came to what she called her "duty".

When five minutes passed, Spike tossed away his cigarette and sighed.

"Bleedin' witch got herself killed."

Spike leaped off his roof and landed noisily, compared to Red. With a careless pace, Spike swaggered up to the alley where he figured Willow and the demon hit. He could smell blood, not human though, the closer he came to the alleyway.

Didn't mean much. Red could've died with every bone in her body broken, and not lose a drop of blood. Angelus killed bloke like that once.

Green liquid was running out of the alley, spilling off the curb in a fast moving river. Spike walked parallel to the flow and into the alley. The demon was lying far up the way. Its body had come down on a metal trash bin. The receptacle had crumpled like tinfoil under the demon.

The blood originated from the demon's legs, or rather where its legs had once been. The piecemeal was lying a few feet away from the corpse. Red was no where to be found.

"What the 'el? Where'd she go?" Spike asked himself looking about the mostly empty alleyway.

Scraping of heavy metal against rock… concrete. Spike ran from the alley onto the street, following the familiar sound. The sound of a manhole cover being opened and pushed along the street's black top.

And there she was. Red was hauling herself out of the middle of the street down on Spike's right.

"Ef me," Spike said.

She crawled away from the manhole and she was breathing harshly. She muttered a few words and waved her right at the manhole cover causing it to slowly move back into place with a clang. There upon Red promptly collapsed onto the street on her back.

Spike pulled out his smokes. He jerked one out half way then pulled it clear with his mouth. He leisurely strolled toward Willow, making no effort to move quietly. Her chest was rising and falling with her every labored breath. A pretty eye-catching sight with what she was wearing.

Spike came to a stop. The tips of his black boots were right next the top of Red's head. Her skin was pale, probably from exhaustion, and drenched with sweat, her boyishly short hair stood out redder than usual. She had her eyes screwed shut and her unpainted lips were parted just enough that Spike could feel her breath hitting him in the face from his lofty position above her face. Spike lit the cigarette between his lips.

"Tuckered yourself out, Red?"

A groan escaped Willow's lips then she opened one green eye and left the other a wink. "Spike."

He stood there smoking his cigarette while she lay nearly motionless. He had no intention of helping her up, in fact he was still a little miffed she told him to bugger off the last time he called himself helping her out. She wanted to do everything by herself, fine.

Spike was on his third fag by the time Willow recouped enough strength to get to her feet. Willow stumbled about, head bowed, her breathing no less labored. As she staggered, her cloak came apart in front. Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow and leered at Red's outfit underneath. It was a rare occasion when she wasn't covering herself up with that damn cloak.

Black leather molded to every curve and every inch of her skin from the neck down to her ankles, where a pair of black Yukon Icelander boots then took over.

Months of Slaying obviously had a hardening effect on Red's body. For as long as Spike had known Willow, she had been slight, not quite skinny, but slender and softly shaped. But nightly exertion and regular training had whittled away that softness, leaving in its place a whip-thin musculature.

"I guess any vamps out tonight got a free pass," Spike started, talking around the cigarette between his lips. "Wreaked as you are, you couldn't slay a mosquito."

"Xander and the Buffybot are on vampire patrol," Willow mumbled, head still low.

"Boy Scout were you?"

Red lifted her head, swaying a little, and gave him a confused glance.

"Preparedness and all that?"

Willow lowered her head again. "Elementary my dear Watson. Is it dead?"

"Yeah. Neat trick that, goin' all intangible a second before you hit."

Willow didn't respond. She reached for the belt around her waist with a trembling hand, and the rip of Velcro followed. She pulled out a red caplet and put it in her mouth and swallowed the pill dry.

Right before Spike's eyes Willow's strength returned. She inhaled sharply and straightened up. Spike frowned deeply when he felt a wave of sudden power emit from the witch.

Willow stepped around him and walked towards the alleyway. Spike decided not to follow. He knew what she was going to do.

Can't have a demon corpse lying about, can we?

Willow disappeared into the alley and a minute later a brilliant flare of blue light lit up the space between the two buildings.

* * *

Willow went home, still hopped up on the stimulant. She'd drawn on the last of her magic reserve disposing of the Holderack's body, but she had plenty of physical vigor left over. Willow checked the answering machine when she got in and there was a message from Xander saying he was still out with the robot and Willow was more than welcome to join him.

Sorry, Xander. This buzz is going to last another ten minutes, then I'm going to be unconscious.

Willow checked on Dawn before heading off to bed herself.

The fifteen-year-old girl was very much asleep. Willow watched her from the doorway, and smiled. Dawn had stopped staying up until Willow came home weeks ago, and Willow was glad she wasn't causing the girl to lose sleep anymore.

Willow yawned. The stimulant was wearing off. Time for bed.

Willow threw her cloak onto on a nearby chair in what use to be Joyce Summers' bedroom but was now hers then set about unlacing her boots. After toeing off her Icelanders, Willow began peeling off the cat suit, cursing Xander all the while. He was the diabolical mind behind her Slaying ensemble. Oh, he had a logical reason for Willow to wear the thing, one she grudgingly agreed with, but Willow had the feeling her childhood friend was living out some comic book bad girl fantasy through her.

Her alternate self wore something similar, and for awhile so had Willow. She had to admit black leather did give her a more intimidating appearance. And made her look like slut monster, too.

Now donned only in a plain white tee shirt and boxers, Willow slid under the covers and curled into a semi fetal position. She drifted off remembering how it felt when she launched herself up into the night and led the Holderack into the trap she devised for it. She'd outsmarted the demon and killed it with ease.

Why couldn't she have been this effective when Buffy was alive? She'd been selfish, that's why. Willow realized that's what it boiled down to. Buffy was the hero; the one who made all the sacrifices, it was her destiny, not Willow's. How much easier it would have been on Buffy if Willow had accepted more of that same responsibility instead of helping out with moral support and the odd spell here and there?

Maybe things might have turned out differently.

Maybe Tara and Giles and, yes, even Anya would have stayed. Maybe Buffy wouldn't have given her life one last time to save the world. Maybe Dawn would have her sister…

Willow fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake up for two days.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Replacement 3/?  
Author: Brekkia  
Contact:  
Date: 5/2/02  
Spoilers: Through The Gift then goes AU  
Summary: Willow takes up Slaying after The Gift.  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: None  
Category: General  
Distribution: I guess if you want it that badly... Just send 19.95 to... I kid. Ask and ye shall receive.  
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind, which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Replacement

"You smell really, really bad."

Willow opened her eyes to see Dawn sitting beside the bed in a palm chair. Bright sunlight pushed through the sheer curtains covering the windows behind Dawn and it gave her long straight brown hair a slight autumnal sheen. Groaning, Willow sat up and pressed her back against the headboard.

"Didn't get a chance to shower," Willow replied while smacking her dry lips. She winced at the sticky foul taste in her mouth. Yeeck, two day old morning breath!

"Xander offered to give you a sponge bath—you know like they do for coma patients in hospitals."

Willow smiled. "I bet he did. I miss anything?"

"Nope. Run of the mill slayage. Spike and-and the Buffybot took care of it."

"That's great, but I was asking about you."

Dawn quirked her mouth to the side then bowed her head. "You don't have to keep asking me if I'm doing all right."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You have more important stuff on your mind."

Willow placed her forefinger under Dawn's chin and lifted the girl's head. "I honestly can't think of anything more important than you."

Dawn's smile grew then went away as she leaned to the side and picked up Willow's 'I'm a real Witch in the mornings' coffee mug from the top of the dresser and handed it to her.

"Here."

"Ah, cheers!" Willow gratefully accepted the cup and quickly began downing its heated contents.

"So how did the demon hunt go?"

"Swell. I did the immaterial spell twice. Showed that Holderack who's the boss."

Dawn beamed. "It was a Holderack! I knew it!"

Willow scowled playfully. "Let's not gloss over the fact I pulled off the immaterial spell. Twice."

Dawn turned her eyes upwards. "Big whoop. You've been practicing for a month, of course you pulled it off!"

"Fine, trivialize my wondrous accomplishments."

Dawn rolled her eyes again.

"Your eyes are going to get stuck that way one of these days."

"Sure they will, stinky."

"Ouch! I can take a hint. Shower time for Willow."

* * *

Willow was sitting at the kitchen table wearing a sky-blue terry cloth robe with cloud patterns floating all over it. Her hair was damp from the shower she'd taken, but was quickly drying. Dawn stood with her back to the coffee maker facing Willow, while waiting for a fresh pot to finish percolating. She had on a red-in-black v-knit shirt Willow found vaguely familiar. The top hung several sizes too big on Dawn. The hem came down over her contoured black jeans all the way to her knees.

"Amy came by," Dawn said.

Willow barely looked up from her book on Modern Philosophy that was lying open on the table in front of her. "Amy? How's she doing?"

She didn't see Dawn shrug because she'd already refocused on the book.

"I don't know, she was acting kind of weird."

Willow looked at Dawn more attentively this time. "Weird?"

"Yeah. She wanted to know if she could borrow some of your magic supplies."

"That doesn't seem very strange. Did you let her have them?"

"Yeah… do you mind?"

"No."

"Anyway, it wasn't that she wanted to borrow the magic stuff that worried me, but the way she was acting--kind of desperate."

Willow looked off to the side thoughtfully. Admittedly she hadn't given the recently de-ratted witch much regard lately. The last time she'd seen Amy was months ago, before Tara moved out.

Willow looked back up at Dawn.

"I'll go see Amy today and find out what's going on with her. I should have kept up with her more. It can't be an easy transition going from years of ratdom to human, she could probably use a friend right now."

"You think she wants to be around people who know what she's been through?"

"Maybe."

"I think I'd want to get away from anything that reminded me," Dawn trailed off and she turned back to the coffee maker.

Willow stared at the girl with concern, even in her caffeine-deprived state Willow didn't need to ask the girl to finish her thought.

"Dawn--"

"Sook called. Said he wants you at the Dojo today," Dawn said quickly, her back still turned.

"He always wants me at the school. Dawn--"

Dawn turned back to Willow and in her right hand she gripped the coffeepot by its handle. Dawn had a big smile on her face as she refilled Willow's cup. It was sad to Willow how believable that smile was, it completely hid how Dawn was really feeling.

"I'm going to the mall with Amber and Emily. Maybe catch a couple of movies, okay?"

Willow didn't get a chance to answer because the fifteen-year-old had set the pot down on a rag on the table, grabbed her purse, and rushed out the back door.

"It's not your fault," Willow quietly told an empty kitchen.

* * *

After an hour of staring blankly at her psychology book, Willow gave up and left the breakfast table to get dressed for the day ahead.

Sook was going to work her hard today to make up for the lessons she missed while recovering from the Holderack slay. So Willow knew she had to dress for a sweaty and agonizing routine. She decided to wear a charcoal Hoodie over a gray athletic bra, black sweat pants, and a pair of white lo-tops.

Willow also packed a small sports bag crammed with bottled water, a couple of clean white towels, and a change of clothes.

But before she left the house, Willow wanted to run a diagnostic on the Buffybot. Xander had gotten fairly proficient at repairing any superficial damage the robot sustained after a night of patrolling, but he lacked the technical know-how to fix the Buffybot's micro-circuitry injuries. The bot, however, seemed to have come through another night of slaying without a scratch.

Sitting there in Buffy's bedroom watching the robot in "sleep mode", Willow could understand why Spike and Xander found it so hard to be around Buffy's cybernetic double. It was only recently that Willow could share the same space with the robot for more than a few minutes without breaking down into tears herself. Though utterly cheerful and guileless, the Buffybot would sometimes say something or do something that Willow found so Buffy-like it twisted her up inside. It would smile quirking its lips in a way the real Buffy used to, or laugh the way Buffy used to laugh. Dawn thought she was a constant and painful reminder of losing Buffy, but she wasn't. The Buffybot was.

Sometimes, when the impracticality of doing so didn't seem so great, Willow was tempted to do like Spike wanted and dismantle the robot.

* * *

The Dojo was a converted cellar—converted in the barest sense. Even now it was little more than a giant cinder block with no windows and just the one door. The cellar however was bigger than the two-room house Sook occupied above it. Built in the twenties, the cellar was used to store up to three hundred cases of smuggled Canadian whiskey during prohibition. So the cellar was fairly large, some two hundred feet wide and two hundred and ten feet long.

Two wire caged florescent lights lined the high ceiling, the light they cast illuminated less than half the space, and deep shadows pooled over the corners of the room. Ordinarily—or at least before the training sessions began—the cellar smelled dry and unused, and like cold concrete. An antiquated ventilation kept the worst of the aridity to a minimum and circulated clean air into the cellar occasionally.

Sook only made a few changes to the cellar, the most obvious could be found on the walls: Weapons. Four swords, two Kendo Bamboo training swords, a pair of very functional Tai Chi swords, and four wax wood Bo staffs were placed on their respective wall mounts. A Wing Chun dummy sat pushed up against the far wall, partially hidden by shadow. And finally three blue mats like you'd find draped across the floor in a gymnasium, covered the cellar floor.

The mat in the middle was the largest, measuring in at fifteen feet in width and another fifteen in length, the remaining two measured in at seven by six feet long.

It was on the middle mat that Willow and Sook sparred.

"Keep your guard up. Good. That kick wasn't high enough, again. Good. But you don't need to keep your eyes on the target all the time, just sensing an opponent can be enough."

"I can't believe you're telling me that! For months you've been saying, 'Keep your eyes on the target' and 'Never take your eyes off the target'. Now you're telling me to do the exact opposite?"

"Evolve or die."

Willow ducked under a roundhouse kick and then quickly blocked a snap front kick aimed at her stomach. Going on the offensive, Willow leaped backwards over the mat then forward into a flying right kick. Sook dodged, just barely.

"Nicely executed."

"High praise," was Willow's breathy reply after she landed behind Sook then aimed a back kick at his tailbone.

The small Asian man side-stepped the kick and spun around to face Willow, who was smiling proudly even though she was sweating so hard that it looked like she'd just came in from a monsoon, and her breathing was heavy. Her gray sports bra was soaked through and her pants like the training gi Sook's had on, was too black to show her sweat. Sook had his breathing well under control though, and only a thin film of moister layered his forehead. But it didn't matter to Willow how unruffled her Sensei appeared—this was the longest she'd ever lasted against him. Sook clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at Willow.

"Don't be so pleased with yourself, Ms. Rosenberg," Sook said with a faintly accented voice. What accent Willow still couldn't figure out.

Willow kept her stance. Reluctant to move her arms even to wipe away the sweat trying to flow into her eyes. She chose instead to let the sweat burn her vision briefly before quickly blinking it away. "It's been ten minutes since we started, Sensei, and I'm still on my feet."

Sook cocked an eyebrow. "And why do you think that is?"

Willow felt her smile waver. It was never good when Sook asked her questions. Questions meant he was going to make a point.

"Uh… I'm learning?" Willow answered hopefully.

Sook took a step towards Willow and she jumped in place. Her arms and fists vibrating with tension as she readied herself for an attack from her teacher.

Sook was the finest example of never judging a book by its cover Willow had even seen. Sook was a small man, barely an inch taller than she was. Whip thin, looked it even more so when he wore his black, loose fitting training clothes.

But Willow was under no illusions when it came to Sook; he was as dangerous as they come.

"You are." Sook knodded as he began circling her, his hands still behind his back. "In fact you may be able to challenge a second degree black belt at this point… But…"

"But?" Willow echoed, turning in place to keep Sook in her sights.

"I'm not a second degree anything."

Willow had time to let out a tiny yelp before she hit the mat face first, and that was about it. The left side of her head was mashed hard into the mat as Sook's knee dug into the back of her neck, while he gripped her right arm at the wrist and around her elbow and twisted her limb out vertically behind her back. Her sweat soaked-skin stuck to the thick plastic of the heavily padded mat.

Gritting her teeth, Willow bit out her next words.

"You were holding back."

She didn't make it a question.

"Yes, obviously."

"To prove a point."

"Yes."

"Which, naah!" Sook applied pressure to her contorted arm. "Which… is?"

"Why don't you tell me."

"That you're the Master?"

"Close, but no. Guess again," Willow could hear the amusement in Sook's voice, but she hurt too much to feel indignant. She tried to relax instead, hoping to lessen the strain placed on her shoulder. Because the pain made it hard for her to think, and she needed to focus. Sook would dislocate her shoulder again if she failed to give him the answer he expected.

"I-I… I'm not," Willow managed and then screamed. Sook was slowly bending her arm the wrong way even further.

"You're not what?"

"A master."

The pain in her shoulder vanished—replaced by a throbbing numbness that spread throughout her whole arm. Willow didn't even feel it when her arm fell uselessly to the mat with a wet smack. Sook's knee went away as well and a soreness she didn't know existed flared down her spine.

"You figured it out on the second try, that's something, I suppose," Sook said, though he sounded less than pleased. "I had to dislocate both of Mr. Harris' arms before he got my point."

Willow bent her legs so that her knees were under her stomach and tried to bring her upper body away from the mat, using her head and then her good arm as leverage. The bare parts of her body peeled away from the mat noisily like one long tear of Velcro, only the sound her flesh made was wetter. Her right arm hung lamely at her side, the back of her hand sliding against the ground as she sluggishly raised herself up.

When she managed to straighten up, her legs still folded under her, Willow craned her neck and looked at Sook who stood on the edge of the mat to her left watching her with no expression.

"You did that to Xander? When?"

Sook clasped his hands behind his back again and shrugged. "During your nap time."

"Why?"

Sook's eyes widen marginally when Willow's powers swelled. She knew Sook was sensitive to magic and wasn't surprised that he was reacting. She also didn't care.

"Why did you hurt him like that!" Willow rose to her feet gripping her right shoulder. She still couldn't feel her right arm, but the rest of her felt unencumbered and infused with strength.

Sook shrugged once more and smiled. "He's come far physically, but as with all neophytes who gain a little skill and a scrap of knowledge, he's become… arch. I'm afraid the young man doesn't learn as easily as you do."

Willow let the power she'd gathered ebb, but only a bit. "I don't like it when my friends get hurt, Sook."

"I told you what my teachings would entail, and Mr. Harris as well."

"But that's only for students you're training seriously," Willow shook her head, "and Xander never agreed to that."

"Mr. Harris changed his mind."

"Xander," Willow said under her breath like his name was a curse—the colorful metaphoric kind.

"I wouldn't worry about your young friend. As I said, he has progressed far. Further than I thought him capable of going. Come, let's see about your arm."

* * *

"Promise me you won't kill him," Willow demanded as Sook inspected her arm. She and Sook stood in the center of the center mat. Sook was in front of her, his closely shaven head bowed while his long, slender fingers tenderly inspected the aching muscles in her right shoulder.

"Your arm will be fine in several minutes," he said without looking away from Willow's shoulder.

"Master," Willow started carefully, keeping her voice dry, calm and nearly toneless, "don't make me come after you."

Sook lowered Willow's arm and gave her a blank stare. "I'll do as I will."

Willow didn't know much about Sook Jian, she in truth didn't even know if Sook Jian was his real name, but she trusted him not to kill her during their training sessions. A feat she knew him very capable of doing, both physically and quit willingly. Sook had no qualms about killing, not even when it came to those he'd decided to school in his arts.

Willow trusted him with her life, but that trust only went so far.

She certainly had no intention of entrusting Sook with the life of her best friend in the world.

Willow tried to keep her expression as bare and lacking in emotion as the one she saw on Sook's angular face. "I understand. And I'll do what I will."

They spoke no more about Xander or Sook's hurting him. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with Sook anyway—she might as well go shout at a brick wall for all the good it'd do her. No, it was Xander she had to talk to. Though Willow had a feeling that may be just as futile, but she'd give it a go anyway. Loving Xander meant she had to at least _try_ and talk him out of exposing himself to the not so tender mercies of one of the most ruthless assassins the Order of Taraka ever produced.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Replacement 4/?  
Author: Brekkia  
Contact:  
Date: 5/2/02  
Spoilers: Through The Gift then goes AU  
Summary: Willow takes up Slaying after The Gift.  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: None  
Category: General  
Distribution: I guess if you want it that badly... Just send 19.95 to... I kid. Ask and ye shall receive.  
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind, which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Replacement

Before Sook left the Dojo he ordered Willow to spend the next two hours on conditioning and strength training. A fifteen-pound weight vest and four ten-pound weight-bands were stored in the base of the Wing Chun dummy, along with a thirty-pound vest. Willow pulled out the lighter vest and put it on, then she strapped the bands to her wrists and ankles. The first time Sook had Willow put on the weights, she couldn't move or initiate a decent punch or kick. But now, four months later, Willow could do her exercises for an hour before fatigue set in and she needed to work at keeping her form.

As grueling as the katas were, Willow preferred this form of training to sparring with Sook because when it was just her against the weights, the only enemy Willow fought was herself—more specifically her own weaknesses. And there was no greater challenge to Willow than when her will was all that stood between her and collapsing in a heap on the floor. Of course Willow could never tell Sook this. She would hate to see what point he'd want to make about that attitude. Sook believed she should only feel tested when fighting opponents who wanted to kill her, not during her shadow boxing.

As Willow began a twenty-punch repetition with her left arm—her right was still bothering her—she allowed her body to perform the deeply learned motions on its own as her attention wandered.

Xander…

Xander, like Dawn, was hiding behind an almost convincing grin. He pretended like he hadn't been dying inside ever since Buffy tossed herself off the scaffold. It wasn't until the night Angel brought the Argeseous scroll that Willow caught her first glimpse of how Xander really felt, and of the other secrets he kept.

It was just a small peek before that sardonic, carefree mask Xander loved to wear fell back in place…

* * *

"Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?" Angel asked the second after Willow opened the front door and unveiled him standing on the porch, looking about as angry as he sounded. The smile that had been on Willow's face faded and Angel swept over the thresh-hold and into the house.

Willow closed the door and followed Angel into the living room where Xander, Tara, Anya, and Dawn were watching TV. Angel's loud accusation had them all staring at the vampire with the same startled expression Willow had at the door. As Willow entered the room Angel was pacing, no, _stalking_ back and forth over the area rug so fast, his black overcoat hardly had time to billow out behind him before he changed direction. Then he suddenly stopped and faced Willow and asked, "You think she would have wanted you to do this? That getting yourself killed is going to honor her?"

Willow nervously glanced from Angel to her friends and lover. This is not a conversation she wanted to have in front of them. Angel noticed her nervousness and made it out for what it was.

"What a surprise. You haven't told them, have you?" Angel turned away from Willow and looked at the small group sitting around the TV, even though he was only familiar with half the people before him.

"Angel--"

"Do you know what she's up to?" Angel jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Willow.

Willow quickly moved to grab Angel's other arm and tried to pull him back towards the door. "Angel, let's talk about this outside, please!"

He ignored Willow and let her tug ineffectually on his arm.

"She's going to start slaying," Angel turned back to Willow, "or are you doing that already? It wouldn't surprise me."

"Hey, Deadness, of course she's slaying," Xander spoke up first, "we all are. Even Spike. It's a team effort."

"Is that right, Xander? Oh, then she's talked to you all about a certain scroll she wanted Wesley to find for her? The Scroll of Argeseous?"

Tara let out a small gasp then stared at Willow with surprise and hurt. Willow turned her head and stared at the stairs leading up to the upper floor. Angel's gaze zeroed in on Tara.

"You're familiar with it, I see—how about you, Xander? Dawn? Ma'am?" Angel looked to each of them.

"Anya," Anya clarified for the vampire, "we've met. And I've heard of that scroll. I think it's used--"

"Angel--" Willow broke in and then Angel interrupted her.

"That's right, nice to see you again, Anya. Why don't I let everyone else in on the secret, too? The Scroll of Argeseous is inscribed with an alchemy spell for a magical stimulate which temporarily reverses the wear and tear high level magics puts your body through. The kind of high level magic a human is not meant to use for extended periods of time."

Tara stood up from the couch and rushed up the stairs, a few seconds later they all heard a door slam. Willow wanted to run after her, but she wasn't sure she was ready to face Tara after-- well--not exactly lying, but certainly something so closely related lying was it's first cousin. Instead Willow stood behind Angel, crossed her arms over her belly and looked at the floor.

"There's Angel for you," Xander began as he got off the sofa, "always making the girls cry."

"I'm sorry your friend got hurt, but you guys need to know what Willow's plans are!"

"So she's beefing up on her abracadabra, in case you haven't noticed we could use the help here," Xander replied.

"Not the kind of help she wants to give. It's likely to get her killed!"

"Not to overstate or anything."

"Xander, she's taking it too far when she starts messing with this stuff," Angel said.

"So what?"

Angel looked at Xander like he'd said Buffy was miraculously returned to life and was standing right beside Angel. Even Willow looked up at Xander so alarming was that question to her ears.

"That's right, Angel… So what?"

"Don't you care at all that she's preparing to get herself killed trying to take… trying to patrol?"

Willow for a moment took her eyes away from Xander and looked at Dawn. Though Angel avoided mentioning Buffy's name, there wasn't a person in the room who didn't know what his original words intended to be. Dawn's eyes looked shiny as if she were on the verge of crying and it broke Willow's heart. A few minutes ago, before Angel came, Dawn laughed with the rest of them as they watched one of the Loony Tunes tape from Xander's private stash. It was the first time in a long time Willow had seen Dawn let herself have a good time.

"I care," Xander said quietly at first then his voice grew louder as he continued, "but the truth is if I was in her place and I had her powers, I'd be doing the same thing."

Angel inhaled sharply and then said, "You already knew."

Willow's gaze darted back onto Xander. She was more shocked than Angel when she saw the expression on Xander's face. Xander did know about her!

"She's been my friend since we were in diapers, so yeah, I knew."

Xander turned away from Angel and went to Dawn. He knelt down in front of her and took her hand in his. He was staring down at her delicate fingers as he went on, "Willow may not have been chosen like Buffy, or even like you, Angel, but that doesn't mean she can't decide to choose herself. It's her choice."

"She'll be dead in a month," Angel declared gravely.

Xander looked up from Dawn's hand and half turned to Angel and laughed. The laugh was soft and ironic. "Angel, man, you obviously haven't seen Wills in action lately."

* * *

"Who are you?"

The question instantly snapped Willow out of her reverie and she whirled about and located where the voice originated.

It came from woman, a very beautiful woman and she was standing inside the cellar's doorway. She was of Asian descent, mid-twenties, maybe early thirties, and two inches taller than Willow because of the black high heels she had on. She had long, straight, black hair, which she kept groomed away from her round small boned face. Her lips were small yet managed to be lush and pouty, and also naturally very pink. She had a button nose that could have been right at home on a child's face.

Her complexion was smooth except for one obvious flaw: A half-faded scar that stretched across the left side of her face that began at her hairline and ended at her delicate jaw line.

The woman wore a dark gray two piece suit that practically flowed over her slender frame, and yet at the same time hugged her curves. Enough so that Willow could tell the woman had fuller breasts than her and what Tara called childbearing hips.

"Who are you?" The woman asked again. Though her tone of voice was less inquiring and more threatening in nature this time.

"No, who are you?" Willow shot back and had to fight back a smile, because that retort sounded pretty sassy to her. After months of solo slaying, her bad ass attitude was coming along quite nicely.

"Do you want to die, little girl?" But not quite as far along as the strange woman's, apparently.

There was something in the woman's eyes that told Willow she wasn't making an idle threat. Willow slowly began un-strapping the weight-bands from around her wrists. She was mostly used to the added weight but the bands would still make her tire faster than if she didn't have them on. And if the woman intended on using violence Willow wanted to have advantages not hindrances. She hoped she'd be able to get the ankle-bands off, too, if possible.

The vest was too much to hope for.

"Been trying to avoid it," Willow stated as she unhooked the band around her left wrist. She let it fall to the mat and started working the other one undone.

"Then I tell you now provoking me is no way to avoid death," the woman said in a smooth dark voice. She had an accent identical to Sook's, but her voice was patently female and held that sultry tone men—and women—broke their necks trying to find in a crowded room. "Now tell me, who are you?"

Willow let the right weight-band drop and tried to look casual as she bent at the knees to reach the ankle-bands, all without taking her gaze away from the woman. "My name is Willow."

"Willow… _horyuu_… where is my brother?"

Willow stopped unfastening for a second and narrowed her eyes at the woman. After a moment she went back to freeing her ankles before replying. "Sook is you're brother."

The woman knodded slowly and stepped closer just as Willow got the last band off.

Willow straightened up quickly, feeling lighter and more confident. She immediately went loose, her arms held slightly akimbo, readying her body for a fight. The woman stopped five feet short of Willow's position and looked Willow over with a frown.

"What has my brother been putting in your head, _horyuu_, that you think for a moment I cannot kill you where you stand?"

Before Willow could blink, she and the woman stood toe to toe and the woman's left hand had brushed a sweat slicked bang away from Willow's forehead.

One of those short pauses of disbelief that sometimes seemed to take forever perceptually over took Willow and she stared at the woman with wide-eyes. _I don't think Sook moves that fast!_ Willow thought before instinct took over and she moved to knock the woman's hand away. Or at least that was her intent, but the woman easily avoided Willow's attempt. Her arm swinging ahead of Willow's backhanded swipe then came back up between their bodies and she slapped Willow's cheek. The sound of the woman's hand meeting Willow's damp skin resounded throughout the makeshift Dojo.

Willow's head snapped to the side then was pulled backward when the woman claiming to be Sook's sister grabbed Willow's short hair and jerked her head back.

The woman oozed in even closer to Willow, so close their hips were pressing together tightly. Her other arm wrapping around Willow's waist almost like a lover. The woman's suit felt like silk against Willow's bare skin, and her soft, even breathing caressed Willow's vulnerable throat.

If the woman had been a vampire…

Willow hadn't let out so much as a yelp after the woman's stinging blow; the attack was too damn fast. Willow held her tongue mostly out of fear, because it would take so little for the woman to give one moderate tug on Willow's hair and her neck would snap. And Willow couldn't think of any way out of the hold the woman had her in. Even magically throwing her attacker was out—the woman was too close and her grip too strong. Willow was liable to hurt herself in the process. There were more effective spells, but all of them would either maim or kill a human. And Willow wasn't sure she could bring herself kill a human being.

"Jian must have neglected teaching you manners."

"Last… time I heard… touching people without their permission was pretty rude," Willow gasped out, blinking at the ceiling.

The woman let out a lilting laugh that sent chills through Willow. "There are manners, and then there are manners, my little _horyuu_. The set I am referring to are the ones where you show your betters respect."

__

I'll show you respect, you…

"I'll ask again: where is my brother?"

Willow wondered what Buffy would do in this predicament. Willow couldn't muscle her way out the woman's embrace and smart aleck remarks were liable to just piss her off. So Willow had only one choice—other than killing the woman that is. Willow closed her eyes and swallowed to soothe her dry throat before she spoke. Feeling like she was swallowing what was left of her pride, too.

__

Buffy would so never do what I'm about to do.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to show you any disrespect."

"Of course not," the woman whispered.

"Sook, your brother, left me here to train. To where I do not know."

"I want to believe you."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"How can I be sure?"

"Release my disciple, Yasha."

Willow tried to take her eyes away from the ceiling to find Sook, but her head was locked in place by Yasha's grip.

"Jian. How good it is to see you, my brother."

"Let her go." Sook's voice sounded closer to Willow.

"No, this one is a waste of time. It's better that I weed her out for you," Yasha said.

Yasha unfurled her arm from around Willow's waist and placed her hand around Willow's throat. It was a light touch at first, but then Yasha's fingers turned into claws and started digging steadily into Willow's flesh. All oxygen stopped flowing to Willow's lungs when Yasha cut off her air passage. She grabbed Yasha's forearm with both hands and tried to pull the woman's hand away with every ounce of strength she had at her disposal. But that strength was waning with every passing second.

"She is strong," Yasha commented as she increased pressure around Willow's throat, "but I was stronger when I was half her age."

"As was I, but think on it, Yasha. We began training as children. That one has only been training four months."

"Fah! I smell magic all over her! It gives your _horyuu_ what little strength she has."

"In part," Sook agreed.

"So you admit that you have given our arts to an infidel witch!" Yasha snarled. Willow knew she was seconds away from blacking out, and moments away from dying if Yasha kept squeezing… Squeezing…

* * *

Willow sat up with a gasp, her hand reaching for her throat. She hissed when her fingers scraped bruises. Glancing around, Willow saw that she was sitting on the same mat she'd been exercising on. And strangled on. She didn't see Sook or his sister anywhere.

Willow got to her feet and rolled her head around to work out the sore stiffness in her neck.

"Ow."

Willow trudged her way over to her gym bag. Lacking the strength to bend down, Willow pressed her back against the cold concrete wall and slid down next to the bag. Willow reached for the sack and unzipped it without looking. She pulled out one of the bottled waters and drank deeply. She felt nothing, thought nothing, and stared blankly at the opposite wall.

When the bottle was half empty, Willow poured the rest over her head and then tossed the bottle away hard enough that it rebounded off the wall to her right with a explosive pop.

"Well," she said with a flat yet vaguely disgusted tone of voice, "that was embarrassing."


End file.
